Little Place in Aspen
by Angel-Hunteress
Summary: Stan POV. Our trip to Aspen was a lot more interesting, to say the least. I wasn't expecting things between Kyle and I to heat up, Cartman and Butters to hook up, and I sure as hell didn't expect to learn our families' secrets. STYLE, CartmanxButters.
1. Prologue

**Little Place in Aspen**

A/Ns: Okay, this is my first real shot at humor and straight-forward Style. Please tell me how it goes!

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**February 1, 2008**

In retrospect, maybe the second trip to Aspen hadn't been such a great idea.

True, as Mrs. Broflovski had pointed out, she was sick of having to waste all that money once a year on that 'little place in Aspen' if no one went. Plus, it was only one weekend, anyway.

So, for the first time in four years, we went back to that horrible place.

Granted, the memories of said four years ago were distant, and I was sure that I had only been exaggerating how horrible it was as nine-year-olds tend to do. Besides, I was thirteen, a man in some cultures, and I was positive I could get out of skiing lessons somehow, even if my life depended on it.

I just hoped that I wouldn't be forced into one of those gay skiing competitions again.

And speaking of gay, did I mention _hated _Aspen?

So, it was us, the Broflovskis, the Stotches, Cartman and his mom, and Kenny (since we couldn't leave him out) all coming up. Jeez, why didn't the rest of the town go, too?

I guess I was kinda glad that the five of us could hang out like old times. Granted, we never usually had five since Butters was our 'not-Kenny' all those years ago. But I had to admit, our group had been straying a bit. Cartman and Butters hung out more ever since Butters let Cartman cheat off of him in most of our classes, and Kenny, Kyle and I were looking for a new replacement.

I have to admit, though, unfortunately, mine and Kyle's friendship has been a little off lately. I don't know why, but it seems he doesn't want to see me unless it's with other people. When we were parnters in our school projects, he would never look at me, never talk to me unless he absolutely had to, and even our light banter was strained.

I asked Kenny about it, and he only laughed it off. As if he _knew_ something I didn't. Oh, well, screw him.

I eventually gave up hanging out with Kyle by ourselves, and the three of us were inseperable.

But I'm getting off-topic, aren't I?

Okay, this might be a little confusing, but I just had to get all those thoughts out. (I mean, who else is going to be reading this except for me, anyway?)

Well, it was a long trip. But unlike the last one when we were eight, it was much more _interesting _to say the least. I mean, I didn't see Cartman and Butters hooking up coming, I wasn't expecting things to get that, well..._heated _between me and Kyle, and I sure as hell wasn't expecting to learn our families' secrets.

Maybe I'll start at the beginning.

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A/N: Okay, this chapter is extremely short, and I apologize. But, as it is a journal entry, I guess that's all right. Well, I'll see if I can get something up sooner, but I can't make any promises. Oh, yeah, and this is downright StanxKyle. No big plots or nothing. Well, whatever.

Actually, this was going to be a one-shot, but I suck at one-shots, so it's a full length story. :p Please review!


	2. Chapter 1

**Little Place in Aspen**

A/N: Okay, so technically since it's past midnight this counts as a separate day, but I'm gonna skip the technicalities and say it's a double update! :p

And thank you so much to my reviewers so far, **ChapeauVert **and **Evie Antorcha. **You guys are great!

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The ride there was hell.

Driving the the full-size van was my dad, in the front passenger side was my mom. Second row was Mr. Broflovski, and in the bucket seat next to him was Mrs. Broflovski.

And in the back, shoved together, were me, Kyle, Kenny, Cartman, Butters and Ike, all sitting cross-legged from each other on the fold-out bed.

The Stotches had been riding behind us with Mrs. Cartman and our bags.

I pinched the bridge of my nose as Kyle and Cartman were fighting. Of course, it was all done quietly so that Mrs. Broflovski couldn't hear the insults being exchanged. It had all stemmed from Cartman asking if Kyle 'liked taking it the Asspen.'

And it was all normal, until...

Kyle just had to go and take Cartman's bag of Cheesy-Poofs.

"Aye! Get your greedy Jew-paws off my Cheesy-Poofs!" Cartman whined as he made a grab for the blue and orange bag.

"I'm doing you a favor by helping you lose weight, Fat-Ass!" Kyle retorted as he held the bag out of reach.

"I'm not fat, you fu--" he nearly shouted, angry.

"Kyle, Eric, what's all that shouting about?" Mrs. Broflovski inturrupted (thank, God, since Cartman was about to drop the F-bomb very loudly).

"Kyle stole my bag of Cheesy-Poofs," Cartman whined.

"But, Mom--"

"Kyle, if you want something, you should ask politely," his mother scolded, as if talking to a five-year-old instead of a thirteen-year-old. "Give Eric back his bag."

Kyle opened his mouth, ready to protest but then decided against it and roughly shoved the bag into Cartman's chest.

"There you, go, Fat-Ass," Kyle mumbled, so his mother couldn't hear.

"What was that, Kahl?" Cartman asked in his fake-innocent voice.

Kyle glanced at his mother, who was still turned toward us. "I-I said...here you go, Cartman."

"But, Eric, I'm sorry but you aren't allowed to have those in here," Mrs. Broflovski continued as she watched Cartman stuff his face with a fistful of Cheesy-Poofs.

His face fell. "What?"

"This van belongs to Mr. Stotch's brother and we should try to keep it as clean as possible. So no food or drink in here." She stuck out her hand, and took the bag from Cartman.

After she turned around and put the bag with the rest of the food, Cartman crossed his arms and slapped Kyle on the arm.

"Dude, your mom's a bitch," Cartman muttered.

"Cartman--"

"I mean, really, she's a big fat fucking--ow, Ike, what the hell?" Cartman cried as Ike had kicked him in the leg, an interesting fete since he was sitting cross-legged.

I laughed, finding it extremely funny that Cartman was between both Ike and Kyle, who were about ready to jump him in the name of their mother.

But, as it is Cartman, he continued to taunt under his breath.

_"Well_--"

"Cartman, don't," Kyle warned.

_"Well, Kyle's mom's a bitch, she's a big fat bitch, she's the biggest bitch in the whole wide world_--" Cartman sang under his breath.

Ike turned to face him, glaring daggers, which mirrored his brother.

"Don't worry, Ike," Kyle told the nine-year-old. "I've got this one."

He turned toward Cartman, grinning evilly, and I had a feeling I knew what was coming.

"So, Cartman?" he asked. "You like singing? I've got one for you."

Cartman seemed not to hear, instead continuing, now moving on to his horrible version of the different languages.

_"I'm sailing away," _Kyle sang, grinning.

I snickered as Cartman stopped singing abruptly. He closed his eyes angrily. "_Set an open course for the virgin sea cause I've got to be free--"_

Kyle turned toward me, Kenny and Butters, who were trying our best not to burst into laughter.

"So, what do you guys wanna do when we get there?" he asked half-seriously as Cartman continued singing at the speed of light.

"Hit the beach, dude. See all the hot girls in their bikinis," Kenny replied excitedly through his old orange parka.

"U-uh, well, I guess I could a-always try skiin' again," Butters stuttered, looking nervous for some reason.

"_We climbed aboard the starship and headed for the skies saying come sail away come sail away, come sail away with me--"_

"I-is he gonna be okay?" Butters asked, looking worriedly at Cartman.

"It's a weird OCD habit of his," I replied. "It works for 'Come Sail Away,' 'Heat of the Moment,' 'Sweet Child O' Mine,' and most Britney Spears and Spice Girls songs."

"So, Stan," Kyle continued, putting his hand on my knee to bring my attention to him. "What do _you_ want to do?"

He was stuggling to be friendly with me again, I realize now, but at that time, all I could focus on was the proximity of the hand to...

I looked at his hand, and then up at him, flustered. What was wrong with me?

I gulped. "I--" My voice was an octave higher than it should be, but only I noticed because we were inturrupted by Cartman once again.

"Sick, get a room, you fags," he whined disgustedly.

_"I'm sailing away_," Kenny sang, though it was a bit muffled through his parka.

As Cartman once again flew through the song, Kenny turned to us. "By all means, keep going."

Kyle made a face. "We weren't doing anything, Kenny."

"Sure, dude. Whatever," Kenny rolled his eyes, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

"Boys, we're here!" my dad shouted.

We all cheered, looking at the scene in front of us. There stood the building, as big and hotel-like as I remember it from four years ago.

My stomach churned at the sight, even though I was eager to step out of the van. It was as if I knew something bad would happen here.

But that's foreshadowing, and that only works in books, right?

I felt something slide off my leg, and look to see nothing was there.

It was then that I realized that until now, Kyle had not removed his hand the entire time.

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Okay, it's over 1,000 words. Again, sorry it's so short, but I was hoping that the not-so-double update would rectify that.

And please review!!


	3. Chapter 2

**Little Place in Aspen**

Again, thank you to my reviewers, **ChapeauVert, Evie Antorcha, **and **the1Reviewer**!

And remember, this is a journal, not just like opening the journal and reading it, but actually someone writing in it. So there's going to be some switching back between the flashbacks and now, when Stan's writing the journal.

So, yeah. And after this chapter I promise the chapters are going to be super long. (well, not super, but decently long. And wordy. And plot-y.) So, yeah.

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**February 1, 2008 **(continued)

I can't keep this story straight. I know I'm jumping around a lot, and I'm only putting the stuff about Kyle into it. I know! But this trip in Aspen, the little touches, the flirting and the...God, I can't even think about that now.

I need to just put everything down, and right now my mind is still too fresh, too confused and too excited (no, not in _that _way) to remember everything detail by detail.

I want to slow down, but right now it's too hard.

We just got back from the trip. As soon as I got up to my room, I flung open the door and turned on the computer, opened Microsoft Word and started typing away. I swear I'm going to delete this as soon as I'm done. Or at least save it to a flash drive first and then delete it. Or print it and then...

I know, I'm jumping around (I think I've said this before) but I can't get those memories out of my head. I can't tell anyone. Not Kyle (I think our whole friendship, relationship, _anything_ is over), not Kenny as he's currently dead for the next few hours, definitely not that Fat-Ass, and there is no way in hell I'm even going to consider bringing this up with my parents.

What's even worse is that Kyle's coming over later, with his family of course, to have dinner with us and that's why I'm writing this now. I need to get this all out and sort out my feelings before he comes. I'm not sure what'll happen, but I think I'm mostly worried about what'll happen if Kyle and I are alone together. I think he'll want to talk about what happened, and I'm really afraid of what he'll say. I just hope we can still be friends after all this.

No, I'm getting ahead of myself again.

Okay.

Deep breath...

1, 2, 3...

All right. I'm better. Temporarily.

So. I guess I should start with a little background, right? For those of you who don't know, I'm Stanley Marsh, age 13. I'm in the eighth grade at South Park elementary school and next year I'll be starting high school. My best friends right now are Kenny McCormick and Kyle Broflovski.

I had been best friends with Kenny and Kyle since preschool (and in Kyle's case long before) but back then until about the fifth grade, Eric Cartman had been included in our group, too. Well, after Cartman tried to humiliate Kyle and ended up humiliating himself (which I'm really glad about, since it was extremely bad) we excluded him from our group. Mostly.

So, Cartman had no one to talk to, and because of this he began hanging out with Butters, the somewhat social outcast. How that boy is going to make it through high school, I don't know. Neither one has had a girlfriend their entire lives, and really, looking back, it's not all that surprising where they ended up.

Oh, yeah. And speaking of girlfriends, I think you all know that I had been Wendy Testaburger for a while, right? Well, a few months ago, in about September, we broke up. It was sort of mutual, because we had been together so long and we beginning to lose interest in each other romantically. We're still pretty good friends, though. Kyle had been going out on and off with Bebe Stevens. They seemed really different from one another, but I think that's what made the couple so interesting.

Aspen was their off-season in their relationship.

Anyway.

So, yeah. It was just me, Kyle and Kenny, hanging out most of the time. Well, Kenny was sort of the third wheel until a few months ago, and I kinda feel bad for that. After all, Kenny helped me through a lot of bad times when Kyle either wasn't there or couldn't help. He's a really good friend, and right now me and Kenny are closer than me and Kyle.

A few months ago was when I really started noticing Kyle's weird behavior. First he started to get nervous when we were together, fidgeting the entire time. Like he didn't want to be around me anymore. And then later, he stopped calling me, and when I called_ him _he gave me lame excuses to get off the phone or barely talked at all. It wasn't till a few weeks ago when he told me he 'didn't like hanging out with just me everyday' that we really stopped talking. Since then, it's been Kyle and Kenny and me and Kenny but never Kyle, Kenny and me. Does that make sense?

fdThis is all too frustrating. I think I might've just broken my keyboard from pounding on it in frustration.

I think it might be best to go to sleep before I can continue my story. At least a short little nap so I can put this story together more coherently.

--Stan. (_saved: 2:56 2/1/08)_

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A/N: Okay, I'm not gonna lie, that was a filler chapter. Well, yes and no. I wanted to slow down this story a bit, as Stan said :p but without changing it. Plus, I wanted to establish that this is a real (fictional) journal entry, and it would be inturrupted by analyzing and whining and explanations.

I'll try to post the chapter up as fast as I can, but since it's going to be longer, it might take some time. Hopefully it'll be up tonight to make up for this chapter, though.

Oh, and if you're wondering I put in the typos on purpose. I think it makes it seem more realistic, and besides, haven't you ever bashed the keyboard from frustration while writing?

And btw, this is actually based on my computer journal that I found on my flash drive a few days ago. Since I'm a girl and have never been to Aspen, it's not quite the same, but it's like a parody. Oh, whatever. Just keep reading. And review!


	4. Chapter 3

**Little Place in Aspen**

A/N: Okay, so this chapter's a bit longer, hopefully. And I want to thank my reviewers so far, **ChapeauVert** and **microwaved noodles** (and I totally understand what you mean, cause I'm typing this at 2 in the morning too and I have no idea what I'm writing), and my readers and everyone who's favorited/alerted. This is an experiment for me, so I love you guys for encouraging me!

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I stepped out of the van, breathing deeply. Fresh air!

A crunching sound diverted my attention from the freedom of not being in that stuffy car, and I turned to see the Stotches' and Miss Cartman pull up behind us, parking their car.

After a pause they stepped out, Mr. Stotch stretching from being behind the wheel for so long. Unlike my parents, they didn't change drivers.

The three walked up to us, and the 'kids' (we're teenagers now, so I like to mock my parents when they call us kids still) went to their respective parents, as if instinctively. We turned to look at the large brown building that holds our 'little place' and though our parents admire it as if it were a magnificent piece of work, I only see it as a euphemism for a jail that I am already planning to escape as much as I can.

It's a hotel, more or less.

"There it is, boys," Dad said in awe as he placed a hand on my shoulder. "Our home away from home."

I rolled my eyes at his enthusiasm for staying here. "Dad, it's a small weekend place that we were conned into buying in the first place like four years ago. It's not home."

Ignoring my comment, Mr. Stotch clapped his hands excitedly. "So, what'd you guys wanna do? We didn't get that much time to see what the big fuss is about, so maybe we can do some fun stuff?"

I looked at Mr. Stotch as if he were crazy being this excited about such a gay and boring place, and for the first time I realized that that might be very much what Butters could wind up being like.

"I don't know that much about Aspen besides skiing," Mr. Broflovski said. "But maybe the lobby has some brochures or something."

"Well, let's get checked in first and then we can all worry about our plans," Mrs. Broflovski said in a authoritative tone that ended the conversation. She turned toward us. "Boys, why don't you get your things? We'll be in the lobby getting our room ready."

"I thought it was supposed to be ready _before_ we got here. Isn't that the point of a reservation?" I interjected, but was silenced by a glare from Mrs. Broflovski. After all, she _did_ hate it when people corrected her.

"Stanley, do like Mrs. Broflovksi said and bring our things up," Mom scolded me. I hated the fact how she and Mrs. Broflovski became closer over the years, now friends. It totally sucked when they ganged up on me or Kyle.

"Eric, dear, I've already got most of your things out already," Miss Cartman said.

"Thanks, Mom," Eric said. I swear, he only cared about his mom and himself. "But these bags are too _heavy_ and I don't think I could _make _it up the stairs. I might _faint_."

"All right, poopsikins, Mommy'll carry them so my little darling won't faint," Miss Cartman replied lovingly, slinging the _huge_ duffel bags on her shoulder.

God, I wished that worked on my mom.

"Ike, I've got your bag, but can you carry out the food?" Mr. Broflovski asked. I had to admit, he was a really cool guy--at least, when Mrs. Broflovski wasn't around.

Kenny was already carrying his luggage, as he brought the bag with him on the van. He looked over at us impatiently as he began making his way toward the entrance. "Hurry it up, dudes, I wanna hit the beach."

Ike, Butters, Kyle and I began walking toward the trunk of the Stotches' car as the adults plus Cartman and Kenny entered the building.

As soon as we got the trunk open, Butters picked up a plastic bag and promptly turned around to go back inside. We looked at him blankly, our expressions stopping him from leaving.

"You only have _one _bag?" I asked incredulously as I began shuffling around for my bags.

Butters nervously twiddled his fingers, looking down. "Wh-why, sure fellas. I-I just have some clothes and a toothbrush and my bathin' suit and sandals."

"That's it?" I asked, my shock apparent. "No video games or an iPod or at least CDs or anything?"

"W-well, my parents said that those kindsa things are evil and such, so no."

"_Evil?"_ I asked, my eyebrows raised, wanting to add '_And you hang out with Cartman?_'

"Well, yeah, th-they corrupt minds and such!" Butters told me and walked off. I wanted to laugh. Poor kid.

I saw as Ike walked by, carrying Jewel bags filled with food in either hand as he walked to the building. I decided to help him a little, after I put on my own luggage somehow.

"Well, whatever. To each his own, I guess," I muttered, turning back to the trunk to get my bags out.

"Can you believe it?" I asked Kyle incredulously. "He's not allowed to listen to music! I'm lucky I don't have _his _parents."

Kyle didn't look up at me, but continued rummaging through the luggage. "Yeah, dude. Pretty weird."

His voice was low and indifferent, and as I looked around I realized why: no one else was around. Which meant Kyle went back to the cold, indifferent and avoiding-me person.

It hurt me every time I heard that tone, but I still tried. I didn't know why my best friend was being so cold toward me all of a sudden, but I think it might have had something to do with my break-up with Wendy. I know they were close friends, too. Maybe I did something to her that made him mad at me?

He found one of his bags, the same one he used when he stayed overnight or for the weekend at my place years ago. I was a little happy to see it, as it meant he wasn't as mad at me as I thought.

I paused for a few seconds, wondering in vain if Kyle would try to strike up conversation. I did this a lot, and I realize that it had only contributed to the awkward silence instead of eliminating it. I slung my first duffel bag around my shoulder which contained all the stuff for the beach and turned toward him. I wanted to at least try to get him to talk to me before Ike came back out to get his things.

"So, Ky," I began with the nickname that only I called him. "You never said what you wanted to do."

He was silent for a moment as he grabbed a mesh bag with his sandals and swimming gear. He didn't look up or even at me as he responded. "It doesn't matter. Whatever you guys wanna do."

"Well, then let's all go skiing down the K-13," I suggested, remembering the time when I actually had to ski down that death-mountain.

Kyle looked up at me abruptly, obviously thinking I was serious. "Dude, you're not serious."

I shrugged, fighting the smile. I could feel the atmosphere getting lighter; it was almost like old times.

I heard a door closing somewhere in the distance and a few moments later Ike was back to grab more bags. Which was just as well, since I was done getting my stuff. I picked up a random plastic grocery bag in a free hand. Kyle also grabbed a few grocery bags, since he had less stuff, and the three of us walked to the building.

The building itself was very much like a hotel, and I was painfully reminded of that as we walked through the revolving glass doors. There was little room for me and all the bags I was carrying, and as I walked through it, my duffel bag got stuck in mid-turn. I was thankful that it was my clothes getting squashed and not the bag of chips I was carrying.

After squeezing out of the door (a quick and yet very frightening labor as I was afraid I was going to crush something else and hopefully not a body part) I joined the parents who were waiting in the lobby for us.

When we were all together as a group, Mrs. Broflovski spoke. She always came across as the 'group leader' in most outings with our families, and I don't think anyone was brave enough to argue with that.

"All right, I've spoken to the receptionist and they say they have four rooms available with double beds. Since there's thirteen of us, we should split up by family. Me, Gerald, Kyle and Ike'll share room 413 room, Randy, Sharon and Stan can take room 414, Stephen, Linda and Butters will take room 415, and Liane, Eric and Kenny can room in 416."

There were a series of groans from the party, myself included.

"Sheila, I'm sure that the boys would much rather enjoy spending time with each other rather than their parents," Mom told Mrs. Broflovski. She was probably the only person who was able to defy her orders. "And besides, I think us parents would like to get a little breather from the kids while we're here. Maybe one of the rooms can be for them?"

"I don't know if that's a good--" Mr. Stotch started.

"Well, I think that's a great idea!" Miss Cartman inturrupted excitedly. "They can use my room if they want. I probably won't be using my room very much anyway."

"Yeah, she's got other beds to be in," Kyle remarked to Cartman, who turned red from anger.

"Well, I think they're old enough to take care of a room," Dad said, though it was disturbingly obvious he liked the idea of having a room with Mom.

"So it'll be you five boys then in 416," Mrs. Broflovski told us. As if we didn't hear.

"Oh, boy!" Butters said excitedly.

"Five?" Ike asked. "But there's six of us."

"Oh, no, you don't. Ike, you're only nine. You're staying with us," Mrs. Broflovski told him.

"But Mom--"

"Do as I say, Ike!" she warned. The boy sighed, defeated.

"And as for you, Butters, I don't want you staying in a room unsupervised. You're rooming with us," Mr. Stotch told his son in his overprotective manner.

"Y-yes, sir," Butters answered, dejectedly as he looked down. Even though the prospect of rooming with him wasn't all that exciting, I still felt pretty sorry for him.

As we took the elevator to our floor to go to the rooms, Cartman began to whine about bunking with either 'the Jew, the poor kid, or the hippie.' Yeah. Needless to say none of us were jumping at the chance to bunk with him.

"Besides, Cartman, I'll bet nobody else could fit in there with your wide ass," Kyle remarked. "You take up like two people."

"At least I have an ass you stupid Jew!" Cartman yelled, to which Mrs. Broflovski gave a threatening glare.

I sighed, as the outcome of this argument did not look very pleasant. There was no way me, Kenny and Kyle would be able to fit in a bed together. We could when we were younger, but we were a few years older, taller and bigger.

"Look, I'll sleep on the floor and Kenny and Kyle can take the other bed if it'll shut you guys up," I told them frustratedly.

"Fine with me!" Cartman replied.

"Dude, there's no way you're sleeping on the floor the whole weekend," Kyle protested. "I'll take the floor and you and Kenny can have the bed."

"Dude--"

"Kenny should take the floor as these two fags obviously wanna share the bed," Cartman quipped quietly so our parents couldn't hear.

"Shut up, Fat-Ass," Kyle retorted, as if automatically.

"I'm not fat you goddamn Jew!" Cartman replied, again, as if automatically. Almost nine years going at it, I think it's second nature by now.

"Cartman--"

I pinched the bridge of my nose and shut my eyes tight, sighing. Well, this was going to be a fun weekend.

The elevator opened, and we gathered our things. Our parents gave Kenny the key for our room (I swear, the parents trusted Kenny more than they trusted their own kids) and after bidding the parents a temporary goodbye (for some reason, they were really excited about this whole thing) we walked into our room.

It was huge.

I was expecting a hotel room-like scene, but instead it was more like a small apartment. When we walked in, all of our eyes widened in surprise.

It wasn't like the temporary one that we stayed in four years ago. No, this palce was way better. In the 'living room' was a _huge_ TV with what looked like a movie theatre-surround sound get-up, a large three-seat sofa across from it and a love-seat next to it, both sofas creating an L-shape. To our left was the bathroom, which had a large bathtub/shower and was all sparkling white. Through the other door on the other side of the bathroom was the bedroom, which had two large queen-size beds against the wall with crisp white sheets and blankets. The window took up the entire right wall and giving the room light from the sun, leading out to a balcony. Directly across the beds was a TV, not quite as big as the one in the living room, but good enough.

"Guess we don't have to worry about Cartman taking up the whole bed," Kenny observed, still wearing that damned parka. I swear, it was about eighty degrees in here! "I'll sleep with him if you want."

I scrunched my face. "Somehow, I don't think _anyone _would want to sleep with Cartman."

"Aye!" Cartman protested, but was too caught up with the TV in the living room.

I smiled at Kenny, and he gave me a knowing look. He knew that I was trying to make things right with Kyle, as he was the closest thing to a best friend since Kyle began distancing himself from me. Although, a small part of me felt sorry for him. Kenny never got to be the best friend, did he? It was always me and Kyle, and though he technically was 'BFFs' with Cartman, I knew that it was only a skin-deep term.

"All right," I agreed. "You and Cartman here--" I pointed to the most inner bed. "And me and Kyle'll sleep here--" I pointed to the bed closest to the window."All right?"

Kenny nodded, and then glanced at something behind me. I turned to see Kyle, who was scowling. Either at the thought of sharing a bed with me, or at my choice of which bed we were in.

Either way, the fun was only just beginning.

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A/N: All right, 2,700! I told ya'll it'd be longer! Again, I apologize for the plot-less, slash-less and romance-less chapters, but actually this was to establish things and also to get a feel for the characters. It's kinda hard for me to make the characters stay in character, so bear with me. That's another reason why I picked thirteen instead of like sixteen or seventeen, because I know that they'd be more like their nine-year-old selves than different and more mature.

And please review. I stayed up till 4am doing this (and I gotta wake up early for church tomorrow. Yay.) So, yeah. Review, even if to flame me for how boring this is.


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